


you knock me out (i fall apart)

by carma19



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Cage Fights, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:41:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28346316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carma19/pseuds/carma19
Summary: Prompt: “Beca’s secretly good at fighting in her tiny lil body and the Bellas finding out about it.”AKA the pp2!Beca as an underground MMA/cagefighter AU
Relationships: Chloe Beale & Beca Mitchell, Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell
Comments: 20
Kudos: 199





	you knock me out (i fall apart)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Iambeberly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iambeberly/gifts).



“She’s weaker on the right,” Beca wheezed, hunched over as she fought to suck more air into her lungs. 

“You’re only just figuring that one out?” Luke chuckled as he shoved a bottle of water through the chain linked fencing and into one of Beca’s padded gloved hands. “Drink.” 

Rolling her eyes, Beca removed her mouthguard, squeezed water into her mouth, swooshed it around a few times and spat it out. She wiped her brow and drowned out the din of cheers and jeers surrounding her. Spectators--most of them drunk or well on their way--who’d placed hefty bets on her match. 

Beca ignored all of that.

It was easy to bet against her, after all. She always stood shorter than her opponents, and as a new fighter she was almost always less experienced. 

But Beca Mitchell thrived on her underdog status. 

It made her victories even sweeter.

“I said _drink_.” Luke stood outside the cage by Beca’s side, his fingers curled around the metal-wire fencing erected in the dingy basement where they’d been sneaking every Saturday night for the past few weeks. _Ladies’ Night_. 

Beca chugged some water this time, then glanced down at her ribs. She took a nasty hook to her right side a few minutes ago, and while her body was currently too jazzed to feel any pain, she knew she’d for sure feel that shit in the morning. 

“Round two, ladies!” The ref called, waving both of them back to the center of the cage. 

Blowing a stray lock of hair off her sweaty brow, Beca popped her mouthguard back over her teeth. She shook out her arms at her sides as she stepped forward. 

“Remember--we still want a clean fight. No back-of-the-head shots, no biting, no breaking fingers on purpose, no hair pulling. Get the other fighter to tap out--or knock them down without contact for ten seconds--and you’ve got the win.” The ref glanced at Beca, who nodded--and then at her opponent--a slightly taller chick with a dark braid all the way down her back. (She also sported a swollen lip thanks to Beca’s front jab in round one.) She nodded, too. 

The air horn sounded and both women raised their hands into fighting position, launching their new attacks. Punches--jabs, hooks, uppercuts. Kicks of different flavors. Targeted combinations. Some landed, others blocked or evaded.

After trading jabs and hooks back and forth, Beca anticipated her opponent’s high roundhouse kick. She ducked, deploying a breakdancing-type martial arts move Chloe would surely be proud of as she swept braid girl’s other leg out from under her. From there, Beca dove on top of her and balanced her body weight to pin her hips and shoulders down, snagging her wrists. 

“It’s over,” Beca mumbled around her mouthguard, eyes locked on the chick pinned beneath her. Submission--verbal or physical with a tap on the ground--meant victory. But the opponent needed to give it up first, signal defeat somehow. 

The ref hovered overhead.

When the girl only glared back at her and continued bucking her hips in an attempt to throw Beca off, Beca hooked her heels around the chick’s calves to make that impossible. 

“C’mon, dude. Don’t make me force it.” Beca could pin both wrists with one hand and gently press her forearm against her opponent’s windpipe if it came to that--but she didn’t want to go there. It wasn’t necessary.

After a few more seconds, thankfully, the other girl accepted that, too. 

“Tap,” braid girl growled.

“Tap!” The ref echoed, confirming he’d heard the signal.

Grinning, Beca hopped off and offered braid girl a hand up. 

Both exhausted and breathing heavily, they took their places beside the referee at the center of the ring. After a beat, the ref took Beca’s wrist and raised it in the air. 

Luke led the cheering from outside the cage.

Beca untaped and removed her fingerless glove and shook her opponent’s hand before striding back toward him. “Pretty dope leg sweep, huh?”

He chuckled as he squeezed another stream of water into Beca’s mouth. “Pretty dope, Becky. You’ve got a hell of a coach.” 

She popped out her mouthguard and secured it into her sports bra strap for cleaning later, wiping her sticky brow once more with her forearm. “What time is it?”

Luke pulled his phone from his back pocket while the ref opened the door to the caged ring. “It’s almost nine.”

“Shit.” Beca hurried to follow the ref and returned to Luke, who handed off her bag he’d held for safekeeping. “I gotta go.”

“Really?” He frowned. “I was hoping we could snag some burgers. Victory dinner.”

Beca shook her head as she pulled her joggers over her fighting shorts, then her hoodie before stomping her bare feet into her favorite pair of chucks. “Sounds amazing but I can’t. Hood night party. I’m already late.” 

Luke’s brow crawled toward his hairline. “Seriously? Don’t tell me you’re still an acapella girl…”

“Three-time collegiate acapella _champion_ , actually,” Beca shot back with a smirk, hitching her bag over her shoulder as she clapped Luke’s upper arm. “Raincheck on the burgers. See ya!” With that, she hurried through the crowd (some happy betting spectators calling “Thanks for the win, Mitchell!” at her on her way out), ascending the staircase, jogging through the alley and back onto the main street. 

All while hoping the Bellas wouldn’t notice her lateness.

*

*

*

“Have you seen Beca?” 

“No? I thought she was with you.”

“I thought she was with you…”

“Hey, nerds!” After a superhero-esque speed shower and outfit change, Beca rushed up to both Jesse and Chloe with a tired yet bright smile on her face. The Trebles’ backyard kicked off party mode with their pool floats, booze-filled tiki hut, and dozens of singing dorks mingling outside. 

“Where have you been?” Chloe asked, while Jesse quirked a brow as he handed her whatever alcoholic concoction one of his housemates whipped up.

Beca shrugged in what she hoped was a casual manner. “Got caught up working on a setlist idea for Worlds.” She’d always been a shitty liar, but she knew if one of her best friends--and in Jesse’s case, her ex-boyfriend-turned-other-best-friend last year--knew what she’d been up to with Luke, they’d never let her hear the end of it. 

It wasn’t that she wasn’t going to tell them _ever_. Just… not yet. Not while her hidden hobby was still so new. (Plus, she kinda wanted a few more wins under her belt first. Y’know, to prove to them--and herself--that it was worth all the hard work she’d put into training.) 

Jesse clapped her on the shoulder, having bought the lie without second thought. “That’s my girl! You guys are gonna kick so much ass at Worlds.” 

Chloe, on the other hand, squinted and tilted her head to the side a few degrees. 

Beca knew that look. She brought her drink to her lips in an effort to hide half of her face while Chloe analyzed every single feature like the weirdo she was. “Hell yeah we are!” Beca replied. “Right, Chlo?”

Shaking off her questioning look, Chloe smiled once more. “Of course we are! We’re unstoppable.” 

“C’mon,” Chloe said, taking Beca’s upper arm and gently guiding her away from Jesse. “I’ll go introduce you to our new--” She blinked, squeezing. “Wow, Bec. Did you--is that a muscle under there?”

Beca tugged her arm away, shaking her head through a pinched laugh. “Shut up, weirdo. Maybe I’m finally getting stronger from lugging all my equipment around everywhere.” 

Chloe giggled, waving her to follow along until she spotted the freshman legacy. “There she is! Hey, Emily!” 

*

*

*

The next few weeks had been stressful as hell. Between classes, Bellas rehearsals, trying to figure out setlists for Worlds so they could start specific vocal and choreo rehearsals, and sneaking off for weekday morning training sessions and Saturday night matches with Luke, Beca stole sleep where she could. Skipping classes here and there. In the campus radio station booth. Curled up on the bleachers before rehearsals. 

She made it work, despite feeling Chloe’s eyes locked on her more lately--lingering on her random bruises, concern etched in her brow upon waking her up after finding Beca asleep at the kitchen table. Beca always assured Chloe she was fine, just stressed. And that much wasn’t a lie because she _was_ fine. Just stressed. She could handle it.

But Beca didn’t anticipate another obstacle standing in the way of the Bellas’ reinstatement. 

_Das Sound Machine_.

Beca’s jaw clenched so hard during the car show (that should have been _theirs_ ) she damn near ground her molars to dust. The sheer power of the massive, militant singing group blew her mind, as did their high tech theatrics. What pissed her off most, though--was their captain.

Kommissar. 

Arrogant, condescending. Downright insulting.

And like--annoyingly attractive? ( _Seriously, Beca. What’s going on with your brain lately? Must be all the head shots in the ring…_ )

Getting to know their competition always lit a fire under their ass to win, so Beca and the Bellas doubled down on their practicing. Beca did her best to work out a setlist to showcase their individual talents, while Chloe and the girls experimented with props and other methods to hopefully take them to the next level.

Every week, Beca worked her ass off while stress built up.

And every Saturday night, she pulled on her fighting trunks and sports bra and stepped into the cage to fight it all out. In hyperfocusing on her opponent, everything else just sort of… melted away. Music had always been that force for her before--her place to step away from the harsh realities of life and let herself relax. Only lately, thanks to the pressure of the Bellas’ future on her shoulders, music happened to be causing more stress than releasing it. 

Fighting held that same power over her. All-consuming and distracting. Therapeutic and healing. (The irony of physical fighting being ‘healing’ wasn’t lost on her, but it checked out for Beca.)

She’d won her last 4 matches in a row. The spectators started favoring her, shifting the odds in her favor for their betting purposes. (Last time, one old dude handed her a hundred dollar bill on his way out, thanking her for her victory.)

But Beca wasn’t doing it for the money. Even though she got a cut of the profits with each fight (win _or_ lose, though she earned significantly more for a win), the money was only a bonus. Truth was, she loved the thrill of the fight. She loved anticipating her opponents’ moves and outsmarting them, using her speed and smaller frame to her advantage. And as with most situations in life--she _loved_ being underestimated. 

Hopping into the cage first, Beca waved to the crowd as she bounced on her heels to hype herself up. Stretching her arms over her head, she headed over to Luke who stood by the cage as always, backing her up. 

“So victory burgers tonight? I plan to finish this one up early. Kinda starving,” Beca said with a smirk.

Luke shot her an amused look, handing off her mouthguard through the metal wire cage. “Don’t get too cocky, Becky.”

“Not cocky, just confident,” Beca assured him. “I’m on a streak. I plan to extend that shit.” 

“Tiny mouse.” 

Beca sucked in a sharp breath upon registering that familiar accent, then whirled around--and froze with wide eyes. 

The German acapella captain sauntered forward, wrapping up her open fingered gloves with fighter tape as she pinned Beca with a wolfish smirk. “Some of my teammates discovered you enjoyed--how do you say--kicking the ass in the cages down here. So, I thought it might be fun to see for myself.” 

Kommissar seemed to grow five inches since Beca saw her last, standing before her--towering over her, really--with her lean, sculpted body, donning silver boxing shorts and a spandex white halter top, her blonde hair secured into a neat bun. 

It took a few more seconds for Beca’s brain to reboot, eyes snapping back to her pinched face. “Seriously? You _stalked_ me here?” 

Kommissar winked. “We like to know our competition. Surely, as a captain, you understand.” Standing on one leg, Kommissar raised her other, stretching it upward nearly behind her head. “I do have some hand-to-hand combat experience, so I thought it might be fun. Battling the Bellas’ lead little troll.” 

Beca glared hard, crossing her gloved arms over her chest in her protective stance. “Fine, whatever. Don’t be pissed when I kick your ass and you’ve got a big-ass bruise on that flawless face of yours.” Blinking as she processed her inadvertent compliment, she grumbled to herself. “ _Dammit._ ”

The blonde cackled. “We will see who takes the victory in the ring tonight, tiny mouse. Good luck to you.” She popped her mouth guard over her teeth.

Beca did the same as the referee stepped between them.

“You got this, Becky!” Luke called from behind her.

After the ref reminded them of the rules for a clean fight, the few hundred spectators cheering outside the cage just… faded into background noise. Much like her Bellas stage performance mode, Beca’s worries melted away and intense focus took over and the bell dinged twice.

Kommissar led with her legs. 

A smart tactic, as her legs stretched for miles and put Beca on the defensive right away. Keeping her hands raised, Beca relied on balanced footwork to block and dodge. After five kicking attempts, Beca timed a small window and lunged forward, striking Kommissar in the ribs with a left hook. 

She grunted and hunched enough, her counter swing wild--

\--and easily deflectable for Beca, who jabbed her in the eye. 

Kommissar raised her knee and caught Beca in the stomach before shoving her off. 

The remainder of the first round carried on in much the same manner: Beca avoiding Kommissar’s kicking attacks, working her way closer to use her hands to her advantage. 

When the bell rang to signify the end of round one--five minutes which always felt far longer--Beca jogged over to Luke for a drink of water and a pep talk. Then, she headed back out there wearing a withering glare.

Kommissar… touched up her lipstick. ( _Seriously?_ ) “I’m impressed. You’re quick, like the mouse you are!” Kommissar called from the other side of the cage. “But you are sadly no match for my power. Just like your little Bellas.” 

Beca rolled her eyes, her irritation with this bitch fueling her to fight harder in round two. Instead of hanging back on the defensive, Beca hoped she’d take Kommissar by surprise and pounced forward with a front kick, following up with a punching combo. The crowd cheered as Beca somehow managed to force Kommissar’s back up against the cage. She landed a few more punches to her (beautiful) body, breathing hard through her nose as she blocked the German’s counterpunches. 

Eventually, Kommissar used her size advantage to shove Beca off, eyes narrowed in irritation as she caught her breath. 

Beca smirked around her mouth guard and puffed a stray lock of hair off her sweaty forehead. 

_”Go Beca!”_

The too familiar voice carried over the din of the crowd, pulling Beca’s attention. 

_”You got this, Bec!”_

Beca’s insides twisted and she glanced through the cage to find Chloe, standing a few rows back and looking--well, _terrified_ as she cheered her on, hands clasped in front of her mouth. Almost like she was praying for her not to get killed. 

Momentarily distracted, Kommissar dove forward with her fists. Beca reacted a fraction of a second too late as Kommissar’s gloved knuckles connected with her face, sending Beca flying to the ground. 

_Fuck_. Seeing stars, Beca groaned as the solid weight of German-Amazonian muscle pressed down on her, wrestling her into submission.

Grunting several unholy swears, Beca fought to buck the bitch off her, squirming and resisting.

But it was pointless. Kommissar had the upper hand and all the leverage in this position. 

Rage bubbling in her gut, Beca eventually gave in, tapping the ring floor twice to signify submission. 

“Tap!” The ref called to end the match. 

Kommissar popped up with a smile and offered Beca a hand.

Beca ignored it, slowly climbing to her feet. The ref took both of their wrists and raised Kommissar’s in victory. 

“Good effort, Little Bella! I hope you sing better than you fight!” 

Beca flipped her off over her shoulder, exiting the cage with her head down. 

Luke met her beside the ring. “Sit, Becky,” he coaxed as he guided her into a metal folding chair. The audience filed toward the exit, those who’d placed bets collecting their winnings on the way out.

“That _bitch_ ,” Beca wheezed, leaning over and removing her mouth guard before spitting out a mouthful of blood. 

“Let me see.” He held up his small flashlight, examining Beca’s face. 

“Beca!” Chloe ran over and crouched beside her (on the opposite side from where Beca spat). “What the hell are you _doing?_ Are you _okay?_ Oh my god, we should get you to the hospital so you can get checked out!” 

“I’m fine, Chlo,” Beca grumbled, still salty after her loss. (To Kommissar, of all people.) She knew she was in a physical state along with her emotional one. The punch to the face split her lip and her cheek hurt like a bitch, as did her nose. 

“Nothing’s broken,” Luke assured both Beca and Chloe, plugging up Beca’s bloody nostril with gauze. “You know the drill, Becky. Ice the cheek as soon as you get home. Shouldn’t swell too much.” 

Chloe shot Luke a glare, laying a gentle hand on Beca’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, are you a doctor? She could have a concussion!” 

“Chlo--”

“She doesn’t,” Luke assured her. “I’m a personal trainer and an EMT. Trust me, I’ve seen more fights than you can imagine. She’ll be alright.” He hitched his thumb toward the exit. “Need me to get you anything else, or--”

“No, m’fine. Thanks, dude. See you at ass o’clock tomorrow.”

When Luke headed out, Chloe shifted to crouch in front of Beca directly. 

Beca looked into her eyes and immediately wished she hadn’t. 

Hurt, betrayal, fear--all swirled in Chloe’s bright blues. 

Guilt twisted in Beca’s gut. “Chlo…”

“Don’t,” Chloe croaked, tears welling. She furiously blinked them back as she searched for words. Ultimately, when a few people lingered, Chloe pressed her lips together and pushed to her feet, seemingly deciding against the lecture at the moment. “C’mon. Let’s get back to the house and get that cheek iced.”

Nodding miserably, Beca pulled her loose joggers and hoodie over her fighting gear, unwrapping her gloves and shoving them into her bag. She led Chloe out of the alley and onto the street where she stepped up to a jet black Triumph and offered Chloe one of two helmets.

Chloe’s jaw slackened. “Are you serious? Since when do you ride a _motorcycle?_ ” 

Beca shrugged. “Got it last week. Fighting prize money.” She straddled the bike, making sure to leave enough room for Chloe to sit behind her. “Promise I know how to drive it. You coming?”

Chloe clearly remained pissed at Beca, hesitating before taking the helmet and securing it over her hair. Climbing on, she wrapped her arms around Beca’s waist. “We need to talk.”

“I know,” Beca assured her. She wouldn’t try to duck out of it. Not after what Chloe had witnessed. 

Beca drove Chloe back toward the house and parked in Luke’s driveway. They walked the remaining two blocks side by side in silence. (A scary silence from Chloe Beale, as Beca was sure she would unleash those feelings at her at any moment.)

Luckily, the girls were all out when they returned home, and Beca trudged upstairs and took a quick shower. When she emerged wrapped in her bathrobe, Chloe sat at her desk with what looked like a tray full of supplies, waiting until Beca closed the door behind her before unloading.

“Kommissar’s twice your size! What were you _thinking?_ ” 

Beca sighed, passing Chloe and heading to her closet. “I was thinking it feels twice as good to win against people twice my size.”

Chloe scoffed. “Whatever, Beca. How could you possibly be paired to fight someone like her? Aren’t there, like--weight classes and stuff?”

“No. Uh--this isn’t exactly on-the-books fighting,” Beca admitted from the closet. “Don’t worry, it’s been going on for years. The fighters follow all the legal MMA rules and the cops turn a blind eye to it.” 

Chloe groaned. “I can’t _believe_ this. Both that you’re doing this, and that you hid it from me!”

“I know.” Beca made a quick change into checkered pajama bottoms and a faded old band t-shirt, shuffling back out and sitting on her bed. Her cheek remained red and swollen but the bleeding had stopped, a scab forming on her lower lip. 

“You know?” Chloe snorted bitterly, taking the pack of frozen peas and stepping up to Beca. She wrapped it in a dish towel and pressed it against Beca’s face. “Oh, good. Well at least _you know_.” 

“Chloe…” Beca sighed, taking over holding the peas against her cheek. “This is why I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want you to freak out.” 

“Well, here I am! Freaking out!” She threw her arms out to the side, pacing back and forth on Beca’s area rug in front of her. “You could’ve gotten really hurt, Bec. You could’ve been killed! How could you even put yourself at risk like this? It’s _so_ dangerous!”

“It’s not as dangerous as boxing,” Beca said. “Fewer concussions. It’s more about the submission than the knockout--” 

“Oh, well in that case, great! That makes me feel _so_ much better.” Chloe’s emotions once again got the better of her. “I just-- _why?_ What’s the _point?_ If you wanted a motorcycle we could’ve all chipped in to get you one!”

Beca wrinkled her nose, wincing as it made her cheek twinge. “I’m not doing it for the money. I mean, the money’s a cool perk--but I really like it. I like the thrill of the fight, Chlo. Luke’s been training me up all summer and… I like feeling strong and fast. Being in that ring--I can’t really describe how amazing it is. I could’ve beaten that bitch tonight if I didn’t make a couple stupid mistakes. And I had four wins in a row before this--”

“I don’t care if you win or not,” Chloe shot back, pausing her pacing to look at Beca straight on. She popped her hands on her hips, her voice cracking with emotion as she spoke. “I care that you _lied to me_. I care that you kept something so big happening in your life from me. I care that you could _really_ get hurt, even if it’s not as dangerous as boxing or whatever. Jesus, I mean--look at your face!” The sight of Beca’s swollen, split lip and the ice pack covering a puffy cheek sent Chloe into another tailspin, palm flying to her own forehead.

“Hey,” Beca croaked, reaching out with her free hand. “I’m sorry. Really. I wanted to tell you. I just didn’t wanna worry you like this. C’mere.” She took a deep breath, hoping it would urge Chloe to do the same. “I’m okay. I promise. I’m tougher than I look.” 

Chloe hesitated, much as she had with accepting the motorcycle helmet. Eventually she gave in, taking Beca’s hand and stepping close. She buried her face in Beca’s neck and a few tears slipped free as she fought to regulate her emotions.

The same emotions lodged in Beca’s throat. She swallowed them down and blinked back against the stinging tears threatening behind her closed lids. “M’sorry I scared you,” Beca mumbled, inhaling Chloe’s scent. Her stomach flip-flopped in a scary way, and she willed her stupid brain to ignore it. (Stupid feelings happening more and more lately--feelings that could ruin the best friendship she’d ever had.) 

“You should be,” Chloe murmured, the fight leaving her tone. She pulled back a few beats later, taking Beca’s chin with her thumb and forefinger as her eyes swept over her injuries. “Let me see.” 

Beca opened her eyes and pulled the icy pea bag away. Her breath caught as Chloe’s face remained so close to hers--close enough where her minty toothpaste breath wafted beneath her nose and shot a tingle down her spine.

Chloe’s patient gaze roved over Beca’s cheek, then her nose, and finally… her lips. Tenderness and warmth radiated from her best friend, the anger and hurt having subsided almost entirely.

A rush of anticipation flooded Beca and she froze. She could’ve sworn Chloe leaned in a fraction of an inch--before pulling back and releasing her gentle grip on her chin.

Beca exhaled shakily and rubbed at the back of her neck where goosebumps had risen. 

Chloe pulled the bottle of aspirin from her hoodie pocket and handed it to Beca. “Take two and keep that ice on your cheek for a little while longer. Wouldn’t hurt to ice that lip, too. Luke said something about meeting you tomorrow morning?” 

“Yeah. Training gym,” Beca supplied.

Arching her brow, Chloe pursed her own lips. “Are you telling me you actually get up early to exercise now? For real?”

Beca huffed a chuckle, accepting the medicine. “Yeah. I know. It’s weird. I meet him at 7:30. Still hate it, but it’s worth it.” 

Chloe sighed. “Okay. Get some sleep then, Rocky.” 

A grin cracked wide. They were okay. Chloe may hate this fighting thing, but at least she didn’t hate _her_. That’s what mattered most, and relief radiated through Beca’s achy shoulders. “Thanks, nerd. G’night.” 

*

*

*

Beca found it easiest to sneak out of the house on Sunday mornings--mostly because the girls all slept in after a night of partying. With her training bag over her shoulder, she pulled on sweatpants and her leather jacket over her practice gear, stomping her feet into sneakers before slipping out of the house. 

She pulled up short to find Chloe--wearing cropped yoga pants and layers on top--standing beside her motorcycle. “Um… good morning?” 

“Morning, Becs.” Chloe waited a beat as she smiled. (Seriously, Beca never got used to early wakeups and Chloe always looked like a goddamn ray of sunshine. It wasn’t fair.) “Figured you might want another workout buddy? You know how much I love exercise.”

Blinking, Beca nodded. “Yeah, okay. Here.” She handed Chloe her spare helmet and mounted her bike before Chloe, marveling at how quickly her body warmed from the morning chill when Chloe’s arms wrapped around her middle from behind. 

After a ten minute drive, Beca led Chloe into the training gym and signed her in as a guest. 

“This place is pretty dope,” Chloe mused aloud, looking around as Beca led her to the locker room. 

They shed layers and Beca strapped her mp4 player to her bicep, earbuds hanging around her neck for now. 

“So what do we start with?”

“Warm up jog,” Beca said, leading Chloe up the winding staircase to the cardio loft. “Luke usually rolls in toward the end.”

“Oooh, jogging! Awes.” Chloe hopped onto a treadmill next to Beca, cutting her a glance with a smirk. “Gotta say, much as I hate this whole cagefighting thing, that whole chiseled muscle thing you’ve got going on is like-- _really_ working for you.” She tossed Beca a Beale-patented wink.

Beca flushed and she rolled her eyes, her heart hammering hard before she completed her first stationary lap. “Thanks, weirdo,” she mumbled. 

“Sooo… you and Luke,” Chloe started, casting her a curious look while she jogged with gazelle-like grace. “Are you two a thing?”

“What?” Beca snorted a chuckle and she shook her head. “No. No way. Definitely not.” 

“Oh, okay. It’s cool if you were! I was just being nosy--wondering if you were being super secretive about anything else.” She could’ve sworn she heard Chloe sigh with relief, but that was probably wishful thinking. 

Chloe continued with cardio while Beca met Luke down in the weight training area. Beca’s eyes flickered upward toward Chloe every so often, rolling her eyes when Chloe made dorky faces at her to make her laugh--or during a particularly humiliating moment when Chloe yelled “Go, Beca! You got this, Becs!” throughout the entire freaking gym while Luke spotted Beca doing bench presses. 

Chloe was insufferable sometimes.

(But she was also adorable. Like, all the freaking time.)

After weight training and some 1:1 sparring in the practice ring with Luke, Chloe followed Beca into the locker room. 

“You gonna grab a shower here or back at the house?”

Beca pulled a towel from her gym bag. “Here. I’ll be quick. It’d be suspicious if I came home all sweaty. Normally I swing by the coffee shop for an hour or so--it’s been a pretty good cover story.”

“Mmm…” Chloe’s eyes narrowed. “Good point. And what’s the cover story for the swollen cheek and lip scab?”

“I’m a clumsy bitch and drunkenly fell into the staircase railing last night?” Beca shrugged.

“I mean, you are pretty clumsy.” Chloe began stripping without a second thought.

Beca’s eyes popped wide. “Dude--you realize anyone can walk in at any second, right?”

Chloe smirked. “Jealous?” 

Sputtering, Beca’s decompressing chuckle pealed higher pitched than normal. “You’re so weird. Stay out of my shower.” With that, Beca snagged her drawstring bag of shower supplies and hurried off to the shower area. 

“When are you planning on telling the rest of the girls about your badass double life?” Chloe called from the adjacent stall, her voice echoing off the tiled walls.

“No idea,” Beca said. “I don’t really wanna mess up their focus--we’ve all got a lot going on.” 

“You won’t be able to explain away the bumps and bruises forever, you know.”

“Well I guess that means I gotta get better at blocking so they lay off my face.” 

Chloe’s snort carried over the divider. “They’d support you, y’know. Whenever you’re ready.”

“I know,” Beca said. “I’ll think about it.”

“Great!” Chloe paused for a beat. “So you wanna sing something, or…?”

Beca groaned.

*

*

*

After opening a super weird invitation on the front porch, Beca and the girls found themselves in some creepy wannabe dance club-type basement with four other acapella groups (if one could even seriously count the Green Bay Packers as a legit group).

Spotting Kommissar again triggered rage bubbling in Beca’s stomach. She clenched her fists at her sides and cast the blonde a stony glare across the circle of singing nerds. 

“Hey,” Chloe whispered, settling a hand on Beca’s lower back. “Focus up, Mitchell. We’re gonna aca-rock this!” 

Beca forced a deep breath, breaking her laserbeam glare at DSM and casting a softer smile up at Chloe. “Yeah. You’re right. We’re gonna crush it.” 

Except… they didn’t. 

Much to Beca’s surprise, it was Chloe who rounded on the newest Bella. 

“...now DSM thinks they have the drop on us!” 

Beca leapt between Chloe and Emily, holding up both hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Em, she doesn’t mean that. Chill out, Chlo. Deep breaths.” 

After Emily frantically apologized, the rest of the group shrugged off the Riff-off loss and jumped into a dance party. Two songs in, Kommissar--flanked by her musical army--strode up to the Bellas. 

“We are disappointed but not surprised,” the male co-captain declared. “We were looking forward to winning a more difficult singing battle.”

“Instead, it felt like--how do you say…” Kommissar strutted beside her co-captain, pinning a deadly smirk on Beca. “The hour of amateurs?”

Beca’s arms folded in front of her. “Just you wait ‘til we get out on that stage--”

“So you can lose again?” Kommissar took a step forward, hips swaying as she pinned her gaze on Beca. “What would you like to try next, tiny mouse? A game of chess, perhaps? Dance battle? Or maybe a pie eating competition?” She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. You are a loser, and so are your friends.” Her eyes slid toward Chloe, an amused smirk twisting on her painted lips. “Especially your little girlfriend.” 

Before she thought twice about it, Beca lunged forward and swung on Kommissar.

This time, the taller woman leaned back and easily dodged the attack.

Beca tried again, only this time she didn’t get far at all as two sets of arms wrapped around her middle.

“Easy there, Shawshank!” Cynthia Rose called while Amy stepped between them. 

Kommissar threw her head back and laughed along with the rest of DSM. “How cute. Even your loser Bellas know when to lick their wounds and go home.” 

“Let’s settle this in the cage. I want a rematch.” Beca’s fists remained clenched at her sides.

“Bec, don’t--” Chloe started, wincing when she realized there really was no talking Beca out of something she put her mind to. 

A look of surprise pulled on Kommissar’s expression. “Two embarrassing losses weren’t enough suffering for you, baby troll? Very well. We’ll take it back to the cage. How much longer would you like to train up before I am the kicker of your ass once more?”

“Three weeks,” Beca growled. She didn’t want to put it off too long, but she needed a few more sparring sessions with Luke beforehand. 

Kommissar nodded, another wolfish grin twisting on her features. “Three weeks. It will be more than enough time for your pretty face to heal again before you go onstage to lose at the Worlds. I look forward to seeing you in the cage again, Captain Bella.” With that, the German singing and fighting machine sauntered off with her group in tow.

“What was that, Beca?” Stacie settled her hands on her hips. “What’s she talking about--seeing you in the cage? Is there some sort of kinky sex club you’re going to because if you haven’t invited me--”

“Stace,” Chloe shut her down with a look, glancing at Beca with far less confusion--and much more concern written on her face--than the others.

Beca puffed out a hard breath, raking a hand through her hair. “It’s kind of a long story,” she mumbled, knowing there was no point in trying to hide her secret hobby any longer. “Let’s get out of here. I’ll explain at home.” 

*

*

*

The girls didn’t believe her at first.

Then they watched the footage Luke had captured from one of Beca’s victories. 

“No offense, Beca,” Flo cut in. “But you are crazy.” 

“Crazy?” Stacie let out a low whistle. “I think she’s _hot_.” 

“Keep it in your pants,” Chloe countered.

“Your technique needs some work,” Amy assessed. “I’ll show you some of my jelly wrestling moves.”

“Thanks, Ames.” Beca stood back while they hovered around Lilly’s iPad. 

Over the next few weeks leading up to the big rematch, all of the Bellas helped Beca prepare. Beca took a break from the ring the next couple Saturday nights to keep her body as healthy as possible to take on Kommissar again.

Chloe continued working out with her at the training gym, and some of the girls joined in on their morning jogs around campus. 

Amy, Flo, and Lilly taught Beca some new moves--some of which Beca was pretty sure weren’t legal for a cage match. 

Cynthia Rose and Ashley cooked Beca high calorie meals, trying to bulk her up a bit more leading up to the fight. 

Ashley and Emily painted motivational signs and posters and hung them all around the Bellas’ house. 

Beca’s heart swelled from their support, and it made her want to win even more so she didn’t let them down. As it turned out, it was far more easier training when she didn’t have to keep it a secret. 

The night before the big rematch, Beca lay atop her bed in a pair of pajama bottoms and a gray tank top. White Christmas lights strung up provided the only light source, casting a comfortable glow in her attic space. She rested both hands on her stomach and stared up at the ceiling, her bluetooth speaker streaming a chill playlist. 

“Bec?” Chloe burst in carrying a plate, stopping short in the middle of her area rug. “Sorry--were you sleeping? Or--”

“No, no. It’s cool.” Beca sat up, casting her best friend a smile. “I was practicing.” 

Chloe arched a brow. “Practicing? In bed?” She extended the plate containing a chocolate chip cookie to Beca. “Just pulled these babies out of the oven, wanted to make sure you got one while they’re still warm.” 

Beca pushed herself into a sitting position, reaching for the cookie. “You’re the best. And yeah, I was practicing. Fighting’s just as much mental as it is physical. Kinda like chess, I guess? I don’t have anyone to run through combos with me so I try to anticipate moves and plan counter attacks in my head--to the point where it’s muscle memory and I don’t have to think too hard about it in the cage.” She shrugged, starting in on the cookie and finishing in a few bites.

Setting the plate aside, Chloe leaned against Beca’s bedpost. She fiddled with the drawstring of her sleep shorts. “Can I help?”

“Help?”

“Yeah, you just said you don’t have anyone to run through the combos with you. I’m here. Let me help.”

Beca’s brow crawled toward her hairline and she smiled. “Yeah, okay. Can’t hurt. Thanks.” Maybe it would help lower her pre-match jitters. She hopped out of bed and kicked her discarded hoodie aside to make more space on the area rug between her bed and Amy’s. 

“So what do I do?” Chloe assumed a fighting position, clearing her throat and pitching her voice lower as she schooled her expression into a more serious one, doing her best (terrible) German accent. “ _I vill be the kicker of your ass, tiny mouse._ ”

Beca puffed out a laugh, standing a couple feet away from her. “You’re such a nerd.” 

Chloe snickered. “I’m so glad I went through that kickboxing phase last year. I may not be as trained up as you but I know all the basics.”

“Dope, okay. Um… maybe come at me with a few kicks, then follow up with a jab-hook-uppercut combo? Slow motion, so I can think through my blocks and dodges and counters and stuff.”

“You got it.” 

For the next twenty minutes, they circled each other in the cozy warmth of Beca’s bedroom. Chloe whipped up creative attack combinations and Beca moved to work through her reponses, muttering under her breath as she catalogued each option. They moved together in a slow dance, Beca anticipating Chloe’s jabs and hooks, their arms and legs coming into gentle contact with each block and counter.

“I’m pretty good at this,” Chloe mused, a smirk twisting on her lips. “Maybe I should sign up for a fight. I bet I’d beat you,” she teased as she strode forward and delivered a sidekick to Beca’s hip.

Beca snorted. “Oh yeah? You think so?” Without much effort, she twisted her body to catch Chloe’s leg beneath her knee, hooking her other arm around her waist. Lifting her up off the ground, she set her on the floor and quickly moved to straddle her waist. “Good try, Beale.” 

“Wow, okay then, Rocky,” Chloe puffed out a chuckle as she stared up at Beca. “You gotta get me to tap out before you win though, right?” Lips curling with mischief, she bucked her hips in an attempt to bump Beca off balance, then reached up to try snagging her wrists.

Only Beca was too quick, hands snatching Chloe’s forearms. She leaned down to secure her arms up over her head, her body weight evenly distributed to properly pin her. “Now you’re pinned,” Beca declared with a victorious laugh. Her stomach flipped when she realized how _close_ they were in their position--their noses almost touching. She almost forgot words existed for a few beats, breathing slightly labored as she cleared her throat. Her voice carried softer with a hint of a rasp. “Now you gotta say ‘tap’ and I’ll get off you.”

Chloe blinked up at Beca, her expression serene and content considering she lay pinned on the carpet beneath her. “What if I don’t wanna say it?” Chloe’s tone barely rose above a whisper, bright blue eyes darkened with--something Beca couldn’t quite name. 

“What do you mean? You have to. It’s the rul--”

Chloe cut Beca off by craning her neck upward and sealing their lips together.

Beca froze.

Chloe was kissing her.

_Chloe was kissing her._

After the few seconds it took for her brain to reboot, Beca responded with eager enthusiasm. She released her hold on Chloe’s arms and her fingers slipped into Chloe’s hair, sweeping her tongue past the seam of Chloe’s lips to deepen their liplock. (She’d been waiting for this, _wanting her_ for longer than she cared to admit, so she definitely wasn’t going to hold back.)

Chloe hummed in response, sliding her soft, strong hands up and down Beca’s tank top along her spine--then growing bolder, palming and squeezing her ass, all while never breaking their kiss.

Beca’s free hand skirted up Chloe’s side, hesitating over the soft t-shirt material as her thumb skimmed along the underside of her breast. She pulled back enough to blink down at Chloe, hitching an inhale. “Is this okay?” 

Chloe’s head jerked upward, bobbing in a near frantic nod. “Yeah, Becs. Totally okay.” A smile spread across her face and she leaned up to trail kisses along Beca’s jawline and down the side of her neck. “Been wanting you, like this--for so damn long.”

That confession made Beca’s heart skip a beat. She wondered if Chloe could feel her pulse trip harder as she suckled over her pulse point, now thumping at a rapid staccato. “Me too,” she croaked, shivering as Chloe’s mouth worked magic over her sensitive skin. She grew warmer with each passing second, body temperature rising in time with the pulsating need between her legs. “Chlo…”

“Take this off,” Chloe murmured against her neck, fingers curling around the hem of her tank top and tugging upward. “Wanna see you.” She pulled back to help Beca work the garment up over her head, knocking dark chestnut locks out of its messy bun.

Beca tossed her hair to one side, a deeper flush breaking out over her cheeks and chest while Chloe drank her in with wide, hungry eyes--which lingered on Beca’s pierced nipples.

“God you’re hot,” Chloe breathed, worshipful in tone as her hands trailed upward over Beca’s toned abdomen to palm her breasts. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Beca mumbled, squirming both from the intensity of Chloe’s gaze and her own body’s reaction to it. 

Chloe’s eyes snapped upward, a devilish smirk twisting up her lips. “Really? So I can take a pic?”

Beca scoffed, her jaw dropping. “ _No_ , dude!” 

Cackling, Chloe utilized her own abdominal muscles to sit up, arms wrapping around Beca’s lower back as she captured her mouth hungrily once again.

Nestled in Chloe’s lap, Beca hooked her hand around Chloe’s neck, cradling her cheek as she poured every ounce of yearning and pining she’d bottled up for way too damn long into their kiss.

Chloe’s hand skirted back up Beca’s side and kneaded her breast, thumb and forefinger encircling her nipple while skimming over the metallic silver balls on each side, clearly eager to pull reactions from Beca. 

Beca responded with barely restrained mewls and whimpers, unable to resist rocking her hips in a desperate bid for contact. “Chloe…” she murmured.

“Hmm?” Smiling into the kiss, Chloe danced her fingers downward until they found the drawstring of Beca’s pajama pants. “Can I…”

“Yeah, god,” Beca croaked. “Anything you want.” She was pretty damn sure that wasn’t even an exaggeration at this point.

Chloe hummed as she tugged the drawstring, loosening the waistline of those checkered bottoms. “I wanna make you feel so good,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth before once again trailing her lips across Beca’s jawline and neck. 

Chloe’s hot, open-mouthed kisses left small fires burning in their wake as Beca squirmed. “Please, Chlo--”

“I’ve got you,” Chloe rasped against Beca’s collarbone, slipping her hand where Beca needed her most. Her moan upon feeling just how hot and slick she’d made Beca caused yet another ache pulsing through Beca’s core. 

Beca whimpered, fingers tightening in Chloe’s hair as she tilted her head back for a moment to savor the sensations scorching through every nerve ending “Shit, yeah,” Beca husked as Chloe rubbed slow circles around her sensitive clit. 

“You feel so good, Bec.” Chloe took cues from Beca’s pleading swears along with her nonverbal reactions, nipping teeth and lips peppering every bit of exposed skin she could reach while she eventually added pressure and upped the speed of her ministrations down below. 

It had been an almost embarrassingly long time since Beca had gotten off, even without anyone else’s assistance. Chloe’s nimble fingers felt _so_ good, and she rocked her hips in time with her ministrations. It wasn’t long before she neared that precipice, and she was ready to fly the fuck over it. Beca pressed her forehead to Chloe’s while her jaw slackened, squeezing Chloe’s bicep as she cried out.

Chloe held Beca securely, rubbing her through those cresting waves until she rode them all the way to shore. After, with a cat that got the cream grin plastered on her face, she pressed soft kisses to the corner of Beca’s mouth. “That was so hot,” she husked, shifting to gently roll them over so Beca could lie back. Chloe settled on top of her, unable to resist peppering her cheeks and nose with more kisses. “ _You’re_ so hot.”

“Holy shit,” Beca panted, all of her muscles slackened and relaxed. She hummed as she blinked up at the ceiling with shock and awe etched across her features. Her body tingled with aftershocks and she huffed a disbelieving chuckle, pale skin still flushed with a warm, pink afterglow as she pinned Chloe with an adoring look. “Hot damn, Beale.” 

“Mmm… hot damn indeed,” Chloe countered, curling her hands around Beca’s wrists as she pulled back to cast Beca a smirk. “So I’ve got you pinned, now. You gonna tap out?”

Beca chuckled. “Hell yeah. Tap. Double tap.” Once released, her hands stroked up and down Chloe’s thighs, planted on either side of her hips. 

Chloe brightened. “Yes! It’s an underdog victory for the newcomer, Chloe Beale!” She pumped a fist into the air, puffing out her chest and planting her hands on her hips as she struck a superhero-esque pose on her knees. “I’m so amazing. And I bet I taught you a few new moves, huh? Maybe you could use ‘em sometime.” She tossed Beca a patented Beale wink.

A brunette brow arched in return, amusement twisting up Beca’s features. “So you’re saying if I wanna beat Kommissar, I should smooch her mid-match?” 

Chloe gasped and shot Beca a heatless glare, reaching up to press her finger over Beca’s lips. “That’s absolutely _not_ what I’m saying.” 

“Good,” Beca said, fingertips slipping beneath the bottoms of Chloe’s sleep shorts to trace lazy patterns on her upper thighs. “Wanna take this up to the bed? I’ve got _plans_ for you, Newcomer Champion Chloe Beale.” Her brow wagged. 

“You do, huh?” Chloe hummed, considering for a momentary pause. Then, a different sort of smile stretched wide. Beca knew that smile well. It was purposeful. _Devious._ Leaning down, Chloe brushed her lips to Beca’s softly this time, nuzzling their noses together. “You wanna touch me, Bec?”

“Uh, yeah. Duh,” Beca’s hands shook with how desperately she wanted to return the favor. 

“Good,” Chloe echoed Beca’s earlier sentiment, and she pulled back enough so she could stare dreamily into Beca’s eyes. “If you win tomorrow, then you can touch me.” 

Beca blinked, her head cocking to the side as she exhaled with a disbelieving puff of laughter. “Wait, what?”

“You heard me.” Chloe’s impish grin grew wider. “You gotta win. Then you can do anything you want. And I do mean _anything_...” It was Chloe’s turn to rock her hips, pulling another groan from Beca. “I figure a little added incentive can’t hurt, right?”

“Seriously?” Beca choked out a snicker, shaking her head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“But it’s working, right? You wanna win now more than you did before?”

Beca shot Chloe a look. “Of _course_ I wanna win more now than I did before.”

“Yay!” Chloe leaned down to press another kiss to Beca’s lips, then shifted to one side and popped to her feet. She reached down to offer Beca a hand up. “C’mon, Rocky. Let’s make sure you get a good night’s sleep. I’ll even stay and cuddle you if you want.” 

With a sigh, Beca accepted Chloe’s hand up, swaying on the spot as blood rushed back to her brain. “Whatever, weirdo.” She held tight to Chloe’s hand even after she stood, linking their fingers. Reaching up with her free hand, she tented her fingers along Chloe’s jaw and flashed a warm smile her way. “Thanks, Chlo. Not just for--” She glanced back at the floor, laughing lightly. “Not just for that, but for supporting me through all this stuff. You’re kinda the best, you know?”

Chloe softened, leaning in to kiss Beca again. “I’ll always have your back, Bec. Now c’mon.” She shifted to crawl into Beca’s bed, patting the mattress beside her. “It’s cuddle time.” 

Beca sighed, but Chloe was right. Thanks to the stellar orgasm and the world class snuggle, she drifted off to sleep within minutes, dreaming of a rematch victory--and the sure to be incredible afterparty with Chloe. 

*

*

*

The Bellas arrived early so they could score cageside seats. Huddled in a group with four sitting in the front row and the others sitting directly behind them, they passed around the booze they’d brought in water bottles while the rest of the crowd filed in--all eager to see this rematch.

Amy hurried over late, dropping down next to Chloe in the front. 

“Where’d you go?” Cynthia Rose asked.

Amy held up a slip of paper. “The betting window. I put fifty bucks on Kommissar.”

“ _Amy!_ ” the girls chorused.

“What?? I’m just playing the odds!” Amy cried, holding up her hands in defense.

Their attention pulled to the cage when Kommissar entered first, her musical minions in tow; they clustered in the stands on the opposite side of the cage as the Bellas.

Beca received a pep talk from Luke in the alleyway outside before they strode inside the underground arena together, the folks who bet on her to win cheering louder upon spotting her. Cageside, she pulled off her hoodie and track pants along with her shoes and socks, and Luke helped her tape up her fingerless fighting gloves. 

“Tiny mouse! I thought you might not show.” Kommissar’s voice rang with surprise as she dipped into a full split, stretching out in plain view of the packed audience.

Beca stepped into the cage and shot her a hard look. “What, and miss a chance to beat your ass this time? Never.” She wore a royal blue sports bra and blue and yellow trunks--an homage to the Bellas, who cheered louder than the rest. She tossed the girls a salute before channeling her focus on her opponent. 

She rolled her neck and stretched her arms over her head as the referee reminded the fighters of the rules. Then, they tapped gloves and got into fighting position, a buzzing energy of higher pitched Bellas’ encouragement at Beca’s back to counter the synchronous grunts of DSM.

As Beca anticipated, Kommissar led with her legs. It was the same strategy she’d utilized last time--and it worked for her, so why would she switch it up?

On the defensive, Beca dodged and blocked, ducked and moved around those long, powerful kicks. Breathing hard with her fists raised, she desperately sought opportunities to get close enough to use her hands, paying the price two times when she jumped in too quickly (earning a backhand to the side of the head and a punch to her stomach). 

“When are you going to put up a real fight, little Bella?” Kommissar taunted as she sauntered around the cage, raising her arms to pump up the spectators. “Perhaps I should fight with one hand behind my back? Would that make it more fair, do you think?”

Growling around her mouth guard, Beca darted forward, anticipating her kicking block and accepting a knee to the ribs as it meant she could get closer with her fists. She and Kommissar traded blows, each landing several shots to the body. 

_Ding, ding!_

“Round’s up! Break it up, ladies!” The ref called, jumping between them. She shoved Beca toward her side and Kommissar to the other for the mandatory stoppage between rounds. 

Beca jogged toward her trainer, heaving hard to catch her breath. 

“You’re doing great, Becky.” Luke squirted a stream of water through the cage and into Beca’s mouth. “Smart plan back there. You’re gonna have to suck it up and take a few more leg shots so you can get close enough, since you can definitely out-combo her with your fists.”

“Yeah, I know.” Beca wiped the sweat off her brow and rested her hands on her hips. She glanced toward the girls to find them cheering harder, and when she spotted Chloe, she smiled.

Chloe slyly reached up and tugged the collar of her sweater down, flashing her cleavage with a wink.

A rush of heat coursed through Beca and she smirked back, never once forgetting Chloe’s added incentive for a win.

Beca had always finished up her cagefights within two rounds. 

Not this time. 

Round two found Beca and Kommissar locked in a brutal battle for dominance. Beca gritted her teeth through half a dozen powerful kicks so she could follow-up with a fierce punching combination. The two captains pinned each other to the cage wall twice, both working out of the jam with sheer strength and determination.

_Ding, ding!_

After round two, Beca shuffled sluggishly over to Luke, clutching her side. Her rib was probably broken and her eye nearly swollen shut, a shallow gash open on her forehead. She pulled out her mouthguard and groaned, her entire body already achy.

Luke eyed Beca with concern etched between his brows. “We should end this now. Call it a draw. C’mere.” He reached for his first aid materials and worked on bandaging the open cut with white gauze and medical tape.

“No,” Beca said, hunched over with her hands on her knees as she struggled to catch her breath while Luke patched her up. “M’not quitting.”

“It wouldn’t be quitting, Becky. You put up a hell of a fight that round. Respectable. You should be proud of yourself.”

“I said I’m not quitting, Luke.” Beca forced herself to stand up straight, popping her guard back over her teeth and tapping her knuckles together in an attempt to pump herself up.

The crowd cried louder than ever as Beca and Kommissar stepped forward yet again.

The ref glanced at both of them. “Third and final round, ladies. If nobody taps or gets knocked out by the time five minutes are up, it’s a draw.” 

“It won’t be a draw,” Kommissar said with a mocking chuckle. She sported a bruise blossoming on her cheek. A few blonde strands had fallen out of their perfect bun and sweat pebbled on her forehead. The same intense determination shined in her eyes as she stared down at Beca. “Let’s finish this, feisty little mouse.” 

Their movements weren’t as sharp this round, as both fighters dragged with exhaustion. Beca’s swings proved more wild and she wasn’t as quick on her dodges. She snuck in for a combination and they traded a few more solid blows, and then--

Kommissar ducked beneath Beca’s left hook and swept her leg, diving forward to pin Beca on her back.

Growling, Beca struggled beneath her, refusing to tap out.

“I’ve got you again,” Kommissar spat, a victorious smile stretching wide. “It is over. Stop your stubbornness.” 

In that moment, Beca would rather Kommissar cut off her air supply than admit defeat. With the ref hovering over them, she grumbled and thrashed beneath the larger woman, squirming and resisting her attempts to lock her into a submission hold. 

“Don’t fight fate, Captain Bella.” Kommissar tried forcing Beca’s arms and legs into a position that would force her to tap out.

Suddenly, as Beca writhed with frustrated desperation, she heard--

 _Singing_. Specifically--Christina Aguilera’s “Fighter” loud enough to be heard over the crowd, over DSM’s militant chanting, over Kommissar’s taunts. 

Cynthia Rose sang lead with Lilly beatboxing, Chloe and the rest of the girls harmonizing in the background as they slayed the ever so appropriate pop hit. 

_”’Cause it makes me that much stronger_  
_Makes me work a little bit harder_  
_Makes me that much wiser_  
_Thanks for making me a fighter_  
_Made me learn a little bit faster_  
_Made my skin a little bit thicker_  
_Makes me that much smarter_  
_So thanks for making me a fighter”_

Her best friends’ musical encouragement fueled Beca with a surge of unexpected energy. An animalistic cry tore from her throat as she slipped Kommissar’s hold and gripped up her arms, pushing the blonde up enough for Beca to lock her legs around her neck. 

Kommissar’s hands flew to Beca’s thighs, her eyes popping in surprise as she thrashed about.

Beca glared harder as she tightened her hold, cutting Kommissar’s air supply just enough…

For the German a capella captain to tap twice against her thigh.

“ _That’s a tap!_ ” The ref confirmed.

Beca instantly released her choke hold as the crowd erupted even louder, the Bellas screaming and jumping up and down with their song forgotten. 

Kommissar had rolled onto her side, groaning as she pushed herself to sit up.

Struggling to her feet, Beca slowly hobbled a few paces over to the blonde. She reached out and offered her a hand.

Chuckling hoarsely, Kommissar accepted Beca’s hand and spat her mouthguard into her other hand. “I am impressed, tiny mouse.” 

“Never underestimate a Bella,” Beca shot back, casting her an exhausted smirk.

The ref stepped between them and took both of their wrists, raising Beca’s into the air.

Beca smiled harder than she had in ages, pointing at Luke--he stood in her corner as always, clapping hard and shaking his head (probably at her stubbornness, but whatever.)

Then her gaze fell to the Bellas, who whooped and hollered, high fived each other, and waved up at her.

Chloe blew her a kiss.

Butterflies erupted in Beca’s stomach as she motioned to catch that kiss and press it against her cheek, _beyond_ excited to take Chloe up on her offer from last night. (After a hot shower and some victory drinks with the girls, of course.)

Senior year had been a hell of a journey so far, but she wouldn’t have changed anything. With her win over Kommissar, she’d earned a reputation as an _international_ asskicker, and she had the best friends in the world supporting her.

Oh, and she got the girl.

Now she could refocus on music, as her quest to lead their group back to Barden reinstatement wasn’t yet over. But she wasn’t worried anymore. Beca beat Kommissar in the cage, just like the Bellas will surely crush DSM at Worlds. 

A one, two punch.

**Author's Note:**

> All feedback is appreciated! Connect with me on Tumblr @ scylla-ramshorn :D


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